


Memories of the Past

by Avirra



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 12:30:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1983093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avirra/pseuds/Avirra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A gathering around a fire on an October afternoon leads to a stirring of memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories of the Past

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the PicFic Tuesday Challenge of 10-9-12.

It was a pleasant October afternoon and a blessedly quiet period for the agents. They had accepted Mrs. Waverly's invitation to come over and enjoy the mild weather at the Waverly home. It had turned into a bit of enjoyment of fall that Napoleon and April hadn't indulged in for years. While their bemused partners watched and leant some help, leaves were raked into piles and a fire made from them as the afternoon grew later.

April was sitting on one of the benches dotting the grounds, looking deeply into the burning leaves.

"You have been rather quiet today, April my dear. Is something weighing on you?"

"Just where I was watching the news earlier, I suppose, Mrs. Waverly. The news footage from Vietnam all seems so - grim."

"It is all of that. I don't believe that so call instant news is all that good of a thing. There are some who need information quickly, but I don't believe that the average person at home needs it. Lack of news is always fretting during a time of war, but seeing images of fighting is not an improvement."

"All of you have actually been in wars. I mean - saw them from the inside."

"Quite true, Miss Dancer. It is a far cry from watching images on a screen..

"Does it ever make sense, Mister Waverly?"

"Some of them do and some of them don't. Not a terribly precise answer, but war can be viewed from so many angles that precision is not a valid option in my opinion."

"Angles, sir?"

"Yes. I daresay if each of the five of us was to share something of what we remembered of a war, they would be vastly different."

"Well, since you've brought that up, sir? Would you mind sharing something that you remember?"

"Fair enough, Miss Dancer. I was twenty-two years old and it was not long after Great Briton had joined what would eventually be called the first World War. My first experience with battle. Mind you, I was not a naive' young man. I knew what war entailed, but it wasn't until that first battle that the reality struck me that men I had never seen before and who didn't know me from Adam were actively trying to kill me and I must try to kill them before they succeeded in doing that. Very sobering that, but the odd thing is the image that has stuck in my mind all of these years. My fellow soldiers and I were marching and we passed by a small home with the most beautiful and vibrant roses surrounding the doors and windows - not all of my fellows lived to march back by them again. I've always counted myself fortunate that my dear wife's favorite flowers are not roses as I have always associate roses with funerals since then. Millicent? What about your memories, my dear?"

"April probably doesn't want to hear my ramblings, Alexander."

"Oh, but I do, Mrs. Waverly. That is, if you don't mind."

"Very well. I would say the memory that shall never leave me from war is one day in November when I was less than two months away from turning seventeen years old. I was attending school in Switzerland when I received a letter from a military hospital telling me that Alexander had been badly wounded and was not expected to make it. I was near frantic, but thankfully, my guardian was able to manage to get me to England so that I could see him for myself."

"Were the two of you already married then?"

"No, not at all, though I was already in love with him by that point in time. The staff had found one of my letters to Alexander with his things and made the assumption that he and I were engaged. I didn't bother to correct them, which made it far easier to visit Alexander."

Mister Waverly lifted up his wife's hand at that and kissed the back of it fondly.

"I did propose to her at the hospital before she had to return to her school and she thankfully accepted - though we agreed that we would not actually wed until after her eighteenth birthday."

"Illya darling? You have the oddest expression."

"Do I, April? I suppose it is because the words Mister Waverly spoke struck a memory within myself."

Napoleon reached over and laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. Illya never brought up the past often so Napoleon liked to catch the blond when he was in those rare minutes of looking back.

"Is it one you would share, tovarich?"

The Russian hesitated for a moment, then shrugged.

"I suppose. It was our first winter of the war without Papa - I had turned eight years old three months before. Things were gradually becoming worse, but I was too young at the time to truly comprehend how bad things had already gotten. The day that reality began to sink in was the day that my Babushka bundled me up in such warm clothing as would fit me and took me outside with her to search. She took me to a place where she knew the roses had bloomed and together, we dug through the snow to reach the frozen rosehips that were still there. It seemed like a fun adventure at first until I grew too cold and asked if we could go back. She told me no. She almost never told me no. She told me that we must stay until both of our buckets were full of the rosehips. That we would need the nutrition from them if we were all going to stay healthy until Spring came again."

Napoleon gave Illya's shoulder a light squeeze before speaking to take the attention off of his partner.

"I know this will shock everyone here, but the one image from the Korean War that keeps coming back to me involves a woman. Stop rolling your eyes, Mark - and you can wipe off that smirk, Illya."

"I would have been more shocked had a woman not been involved, my friend."

"Fine, so maybe I'm predictable. Anyway, I'd gotten injured on a patrol. Not badly enough to be sent home over it, but badly enough that I ended up being sent to Tokyo for some rehabilitation time. There was a woman - I can't recall anything about her really except for her eyes. They were the color of dark green jade and she wore a bit more makeup around her eyes than was considered seemly for those days, but no-one really thought much about it because she was with one of the USO entertainment troupes. Shame I can't recall more than that about her. I wouldn't mind sending her a thank you card after all these years. She certainly boosted my morale."

"Spare us the details."

Mrs. Waverly was chuckling lightly at Illya's comment to Napoleon as she drew her shawl a little closer around her. Illya noticed and added more fuel to their little fire. Mark gave him a hand for a minute before settling back down.

"I suppose that leaves me. Oddly enough, my most vivid memory has to do with after the war instead of during it."

"How so, darling?"

"Well, April, I believe I mentioned to you once that most of my early memories from when I was a lad are of me and my Mum down in the air raid shelters. Well, one night - I think it might have been Guy Fawkes Day - I saw and heard fireworks going off and went into near hysterics. Took my poor Mum a good hour to calm me down. I thought the war was back on - I hadn't been old enough before the war to remember things other than bombs lighting up the sky at night. To this day, I still don't enjoy watching firework displays."

Leaning over, April gave her partner a hug.

"I wish you'd told that story sooner, Mark, but I promise I'll never try to drag you to another Fourth of July celebration."

"Alright - far too serious turn in mood here, people. Time for me to break out what I brought to help entertain Illya."

"A bag of marshmallows, Napoleon?"

"Perfect fall treat after a little bit of toasting."

"How charming, Napoleon. Alexander? Would you fetch the basket of apples?"

"Allow me, Mrs. Waverly."

"Thank you, Mark. Perhaps it's just me, but I rather enjoy the taste of a crisp apple to go along with a toasted marshmallow."

"That sounds rather good. May I?"

"Help yourself, Illya. Plenty of apples to go around, dear boy."

Keeping her hold on Mark, April flipped back over in her mind what the others had recalled. A moment of beauty before the war - receiving horrible news of a loved one - a loss of childhood innocence - a warm distraction between battles - something innocent throwing memories back to a time of terror. Then Mark nudged her from her contemplations before offering her a stick for toasting a marshmallow. Accepting it while planting a light kiss on his cheek, April pulled her thoughts back to the present and to enjoying the rest of the day


End file.
